On Monday it will be 2 months since the vet killed Murphy. I have yet to have a conversation with her. She comes back from honeymoon this weekend I understand. Senior vet says he will speak to her to set up a meeting with the three of us when she comes to work on Monday. He asked if I would be willing to do it on the phone. I said no.

Meanwhile I am worn out with not being able to sleep properly. Last night I didn’t sleep at all. Thank goodness for the BBC World Service on the radio. Never in 70 years have I had any problem getting off to sleep. Early morning waking, yes, disturbed sleep, sure but I have always slept as soon as my head hit the pillow. No longer.

Sometimes I feel like there must be something wrong with me that this has hit me so hard, but mostly I don’t think that. I feel helpless in the face of a sort of denial that anything bad really happened….senior vet’s approach. In my most paranoid moments this feels like deliberate gaslighting. It’s also deeply hurtful because it trivialised bith Murphy’s unnecessary and unkind death and my distress. I feel imprisoned by the lack of resolution and the lack of willingness to admit fault.